


Smooth Jazz; Spiced Liquor; Sweet Nothings

by LoliAshi



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Bartender AU, Eventual Smut, Like Saotome Academy Never Happened, M/M, Not Much Singing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4141257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoliAshi/pseuds/LoliAshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bartender AU where lonely and introverted business man Masato Hijirikawa meets the stunning owner of the Canella jazz bar Ren Jinguji and falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heaven Sent

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something I'm throwing together to satiate my Hijinguji flame. I haven't proofread or grammar/spell checked. Feel free to tear it apart with critiques.

 

_Clink._

  
The chime of glasses touching rang throughout the air, signalizing yet another round of drinks was being shared. He couldn’t remember how many shots he had downed, but Masato did know he was feeling their affect building. He sat silently, in juxtaposition to the incoherent noise billowing from his coworkers, pretending to sip a glass of wine he had ordered several hours ago when the group had first arrived. Masato was never one for drinking, especially in public, but tonight he had been roped into joining his peers at a bar half-an-hour away from the office for a _TGIF celebration_. Usually he would refuse these numerous invitations, claiming he had “made other plans” or “relatives were in town.” He sometimes went as far as faking illnesses to avoid the after work sorties. This time, however, his coworkers had found and asked him before he could find the time to formulate a plan of retreat. So here he sat wallowing in undeserved self-pity, free albeit profuse drinks, and rancorously loud conversation.

He sighed. Having only been inebriated once before and despising the feeling, Masato had sworn to never allow himself to succumb to alcohol and lose his carful control again. Yet, here he was. Originally he had intended to finish his wine quickly and leave, having technically shared a drink with his colleagues, but as rounds of shots were ordered and passed around cries of “Don’t be rude, Hijirikawa!” and “It’s just a shot, you can stay for that at least!” kept him from completing his plan. A round of shots turned into two and two to three. Before he realized it, Masato had lost count.

Maybe he was destined to be a lightweight. Maybe his introverted nature was giving the atmosphere and alcohol more power over him than he had anticipated. Whatever the cause he could barely see let alone think straight. Deciding to put his shaky foot down and force his leave, Masato unsteadily got to his feet. He swayed and blinked rapidly as blood rushed to his head.

Feeling faint and determined to not let anyone know how far gone he actually was, he stiffened and spat, “I’m going home!” to the group of almost equally intoxicated party. A loud, nonsensical bundle of slurred replies rang after him as he unsteadily made his way to the bar’s entrance. Or in his case, exit.

A lazy roll of thunder roared in the rain threatening sky, but Masato neither cared nor considered rain, his only thought was of home. His small apartment was a 15 minute walk from his office, a route he traveled so frequently he was positive he could navigate it blindfolded. As he stumbled along his path, turning here and crossing there, he felt oddly unfamiliar with the buildings surrounding him. He glanced at his watch. If I left the office at…what time did I leave..?  
An uneven sidewalk disrupted his thoughts and movements. I went to a bar...where was it again? He had been unfamiliar with the preferred establishment because it was a considerable distance from both his home and office. He had asked why this was the superior choice, to which his peers had rumbled answers through costs per beverage. Somewhere in the back of his muddled mind he recognized his predicament; he was undeniably lost. Deciding to continue walking, that is, shambling forward, Masato pushed on until he felt a sudden prick of cold wetness. Then two. _Ah…_ He thought. _It’s raining._

His steps turned serpentine as he searched for an available awning to take refuge under. He spotted a building with a large window and old wooden canopy and staggered to its inviting dryness.

As he reached the window, he realized his wooden savior was indeed old and in its age, had been riddled with holes, allowing the rain to seep through. With a defeated sigh he resigned himself to fate and let his tired body rest against the polished glass window. Slowly, as it had always been there, the soothing sound of smooth jazz drifted from deep inside Masato’s support.

Laboriously, Masato shifted his body to peer inside the shop. His head continued the movement and lolled carelessly as he tried to find the source of the pleasantly warm jazz melody. Inside, illuminated dimly by light leached from an adjacent room, seated nearly inconspicuously amongst tables and chairs stacked for the evening, was a man playing a saxophone.

Masato gazed intently at the musician. His bewitching song and, although obscured by dark shadows the faint light couldn’t chase away, captivating appearance were enough for Masato to, if he had been in a better state of mind, doubt his vision. As it stood, this siren of land entranced him and no force on earth other than death itself could move him. Death, or the unconsciousness he could feel himself slipping into. As Masato forced his descending eyelids to remain open and focused, the ethereal being’s music ceased and sharp azure eyes met his.

Clearly annoyed at the voyeuristic actions of a strange man outside his work, the divine entity let his heavenly instrument fall to his chest. Masato, a pout rising to his lips at the loss of the sweet refrain, spoke angrily through the glass to the equally, if not exceedingly, livid man rapidly approaching.

“Keep playing!” He demanded. Before him the, now closer he could clearly see blond, man stopped, temporarily confused by the silent, at least from his perspective, demand. He shook his head and resumed his march to the door. If Masato wasn’t already supporting himself against the now foggy and smudged window, he would have easily lost his balance as the furious man threw open the door. _Ah…_ Masato mused. _He really does exist. That’s nice._ The other man was shouting at him, but Masato couldn’t understand. He felt like he was floating. As his vison blurred and eventual darkness enveloped him, Masato felt himself fall.


	2. Fate in a Pleasant Mood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let me just apologize for how long this took and for my huge lie that it was going to come out "either tomorrow or the day after." I got swamped by a lot of things all at once, and didn't have time to really sit down and write. Not to mention this chapter was torture to create. (Probably will be to read as well.) So again sorry. Again, this has not been proof read or edited.

Excruciating. Blinding. Unfamiliar.

Were the three words that perfectly described Masato’s morning. Everything hurt. His body felt heavy and dead, his throat dry and itchy, but worst of all was his head. With every passing second his head was bombarded by agonizing pulses of nauseating pain. His eyes had fluttered open bitterly only to be violently squeezed shut after a particularly nasty assault of light. Topping the list of reasons he hated drinking was the merciless hangovers often suffered the morning after. With a pained groan, he lifted his hand to massage both his aching eyes and temples.

Taking his time to adjust to the searing daylight, Masato eventually managed to fully open his eyes without wincing in discomfort. He forced his leaden body to prop itself on an elbow; a task he found much more difficult than it should have been. With his eyes functioning and his mind slowly becoming alert, Masato was finally able to take in his surroundings.

His heart froze.

Although he had been faintly aware of the unfamiliar atmosphere, his straggling mind had only begun to register his unusual situation. This was not his room. Instead of the simple, under-furnished, single room apartment he was used to, he found himself in a stylish bedroom. Dark and elegant furniture tastefully occupied the room. The bed, he found, was queen sized. Dark grey sheets were wrapped tightly around the edges at the foot and loosely tousled around him. The sheets smelled freshly laundered and were soft and comfortable. Masato breathed in their pleasant aroma.

He glanced to the adjacent wall. Long diaphanous curtains lazily floated near a large open window which fully supplied the room with natural light. In between the window’s frame and himself sat a simple night stand. On it, next to a modest little lamp, sat a small glass of water, a blister packet of pain relievers, and a note. Going by priority, Masato popped a few of the pill out of their packaging and into his mouth. Chasing the tablets with a substantial sip of water, Masato then reached for the note.

The classy stationary perfectly complimented the author’s smooth and graceful script. This anonymous writer left in his neat writing a concise message on his equally neat parchment.

_I’ll be downstairs. Take some medicine; you’ll need it._

_-Ren_

Eager to meet his savior, Masato delicately replaced the note. Sighing deeply, he shifted his weight and slid his feet off the side of the soft warm bed. His bare feet met cold polished hardwood. As he laboriously lifted himself up, he noticed something moderately disturbing; he wasn’t wearing his clothes. Instead of his cheap two piece suit he had worn to work the day before, he now found his attire to be solely composed of an oversized t-shirt of unknown origin and, to his relief, his boxers.

Feeling more than slightly embarrassed, Masato frantically searched the small room for his clothes. As he became aware of his lack of apparel, he also became aware of the real owner’s deeply ingrained smell. The shirt had a gentle fragrance. A mild scent of tobacco and crisp aftershave mingled together to create a wonderful and masculine scent.

Reluctantly giving up his search after a fruitless effort, Masato stoically decided to ask the man who waited downstairs where his clothing had disappeared to. Bracing himself for the worst with a deep breath, he grasped the antique door knob and exited the room.

Right outside the, he assumed, bedroom, was a small hallway. Directly adjacent to the door he now stood in front of was a bathroom and, after peeking inside, he discovered a small closet athwart from the bathroom. At the opposite end of the hall, was a small wrought iron banister attached to a spiral stair case. He peered down the narrow and seemingly unstable staircase and steeled himself for the coming interaction. After another breath of courage, he began his descent.

A warm and spacious room was waiting below him. Every inch of the hardwood flooring was aglow with the early afternoon sun, and as Masato hovered on a step taking in his surroundings, his eyes connected with the unfathomably beautiful ones of the man from the night prior.

This being sat drenched in dazzling light only dull in comparison to the man himself. A fully conscious Masato could only gape at the man he, embarrassingly enough to admit, thought he had dreamed up. He sat at a small wooden, long legs crossed, sipping coffee, and peering up at Masato. His eyes showed no signs of releasing Masato’s from their hold.

Taken aback by the man’s presence and shrewd gaze accompanied by the, albeit hazy, memory of his actions, Masato felt his face burn with embarrassment. As his pale face scorched crimson, a modulated laugh escaped from the, until that moment, silently smirking lips. Masato felt himself, bizarrely enough, both stiffen and melt at the delicious sound of the man’s voice.

In an inhumanly fluid motion, the man’s legs unfolded only to be twisted in the opposite direction as he set his mug on the table. With a small gesture to the seat across from him he spoke to the frozen Masato.

“Are you going to stay there forever, or are you going to join me?” A shiver erupted throughout Masato’s ridged body, loosening his muscles enough for him to shakily step down the last few steps separating him from the floor. Slowly he approached the offered chair. Only when he was close enough to touch the being, who had not once broke their eye contact, did Masato realize he was hardly dressed appropriately for a breakfast with this beautiful stranger. Masato shifted uncomfortable and adverted his eyes for the first time since he entered the room.

Noticing the sudden shift in his guest’s behavior, the euphonious chuckle resumed.

“You don’t have to be shy, you know. I am the one who left you like that.” The man said with a small wink. A fierce blush returned to Masato’s cheeks. He tried to speak, to explain the situation, to scold the man for his suggestive remark, to say anything at all, but only unintelligible stammers spilled from his quivering lips. The cool laughter returned and the man waved his hand as if to shake away Masato’s apprehensions.

“Just have a seat.” He spoke and his words were soaked in laughter. Masato obeyed, his reluctance fairly visible. With his eyes downcast in ignominy the man across from him spoke again. “You kinda surprised me last night. I wouldn’t usually take in drunks, but you seemed so helpless that I found myself unable to just leave you.” Masato shuddered, his humiliation growing by the second.

“Not to mention having someone passed out against the door would’ve reflected poorly on my own bar.” He continued, handling Masato a piece of toast.

“Is that where we are? A bar?” Masato inquired shyly, refusing to look at his rescuer even as he accepted the bread. He glanced up for a split second only to find a brilliant smile spread across the handsome face opposite him.

“Yeah. This is Cannella. Well, the back of it at least.” Masato nodded. He nibbled on the edge of the toast. It tasted of honey and cinnamon. As he chewed, he noticed he was being watched very closely.

“Where…Are my clothes?” He forced himself to ask. The tension from the lack of conversation made him feel uneasy. When he received no reply, he cautiously lifted his head. The man across from him stared intently with no hint of emotion. Masato repeated the question. Again no response. Masato reached for the mug of coffee that had been poured for him. As he slowly began to sip the lukewarm beverage, the silent figure finally spoke. His voice was as honeyed as his toast as he uttered his question.

“Do you…believe in love at first sight?”

Masato choked on his coffee. His faded blush flared back to its former vermillion as he coughed. Words escaped him as he shot up to a standing position. The man who sat across from him remained unfazed. Masato’s mouth moved, but no words came out. Eventually he found his voice. Attempting to keep his voice from trembling was nearly impossible.

“Where are my clothes?!”

With a sigh, the man rose to his feet. His arm extended and Masato flinched as he felt the large hand caress his cheek.

“You didn’t answer my question.” The man whispered. Masato’s eyes flew open and with a violent jerk he slapped the stranger’s hand away.

“You never answered mine either! Besides I asked first!” A pout replaced the man’s gentle smile. His retracted hand burrowed into his strawberry-blond hair. After staring at Masato for what seemed like forever, a hesitant smile reappeared on the man’s beautiful lips.

“They’re drying on a clothes line outside the bedroom window. Now will you answer my question?” Before he could even finish Masato had bolted for the stairs. Probably having anticipated his reaction, the man was close behind Masato and grabbed his hand immediately after Masato reached the banister. Whipping his head around indignantly, Masato practically spit his answer.

“Of course I don’t!”

A lie.

“I don’t even know your name!”

A truth.

A look of shock had spread completely across the bar owner’s face. Annoyed at the man’s perplexed visage, Masato ripped his hand from the man’s waning grasp. Returning to his senses, the man smiled sheepishly up at Masato.

“I had figured you’d have read my note.” Masato balked. The lovely note he had found did in fact present the man’s name-Ren. Continuing, Ren spoke.

“I suppose a formal introduction is necessary. My name is Ren. Jinguji, Ren. And you?” He hesitated. In an almost incomprehensibly low voice Masato supplied his answer.

“Hijirikawa…Masato.” Ren’s smile brightened.

“Well then, Masato, would you like-“

“That is much too familiar!” Masato interrupted. His blush returned once again after hearing his name being spoken by that wonderful voice. Looking once again shocked, Ren stared up at Masato. The blue haired man looked away, flushed brightly and trembling faintly. Suddenly, a very real and astonishingly pleasant laugh bubbled from Ren’s perfect smile.

“Alright, Hijirikawa it is.” Masato nodded and scurried up the rickety staircase before Ren could utter a syllable more. Tearing his clothes off the line, he quickly dressed in his sun-dried suit from yesterday. As he raced down the stair case for, pitiably, the last time, he glanced around the commodious room for the blond. In a flash of (good or bad he couldn’t decide) luck, the room was vacant. Without a second thought, Masato sprinted the door. After closing the door behind him both literally and metaphorically, he started on his way home.

“If fate is kind..” He whispered to himself. He said no more, for fear of jinxing his wish.

Little did he know, fate was going to be very sympathetic.


	3. Can't Turn You Loose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So let's just agree I'm a terrible human being. I'm reaaaaaally sorry for how long I took to write this chapter. On top of that, this chapter is...kinda dull? Anyway, we're getting to the good stuff, next chapter should be a lot better. Again I apologize for the wait. Like always, this has been neither proofread nor edited. (It also isn't up to par with my other chapters. This one's...I don't know. It was hard to write.)

Fate, he decided, was unnecessarily generous. In fact, fate might even be annoyingly generous. Whichever adverb he attached seemed to fit and the more he thought the more irritated he felt. Not in his wildest dream could Masato have imagined he’d be out drinking with his coworkers for a second time, and, if he wasn’t bewildered enough, they had picked the very bar he had ended up in last time, Cannella. Apparently, the bar recently had a change in management and was now on its way to becoming one of the more popular localities in the city.

As he sat amidst his increasingly loud and drunk company, Masato desperately wished he could vanish like the liquor in the numerous glasses accumulating before him. He had made sure to politely decline any offer of alcohol with the excuse of wishing to avoid another horrendous hangover.

Never before had he felt such a keen apprehension for his surroundings. As he watched the poor waitress scurry back and forth from the bar to their relentless table, Masato’s eyes met with the cool blue ones of the bartender.

He stiffened. Masato had been wondering where handsome owner was, but had he really been at the bar the entire time? If so, how long had he been staring..? Their eyes never left the other’s hold even as Ren skillfully added the lace to a particularly fruity cocktail. A wry smile curled onto Ren’s neat lips as he shattered both a block of ice and their eyes’ connection.

With this action, Masato was birthed back into reality as he released the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding.   
As his consciousness returned to him he noticed first the dryness of his mouth and secondly the conversation rebounding across the female half of the group. 

Masato struggled to catch the topic of the spasmodic gossip. Eventually he heard enough to piece together the puzzlingly difficult chatter. 

“He noticed we caught him staring! That’s why he looked away!” 

“Who was it though? Who was he looking at?”

“If I didn’t already have a boyfriend…”

“Go up there! Talk to him!”

Masato felt himself flush in realization. They had all been talking about Ren. Worst of all, they believed he was looking at them. At first, Masato scoffed to himself, annoyed at their misunderstanding. As the sarcastic breath forced itself from his lips, he recoiled in shock at his own vanity. How did he know that Ren wasn’t looking at them? Sure the other man had said he was in love with him..Or maybe he hadn’t? Could Masato have just misunderstood? It made sense, Ren was unfairly gorgeous; he could have anyone he liked. And Masato, although not disappointed in his appearance, was nothing compared to the stunning bar tender. 

With a sigh, Masato decided to stop dwelling on the depressing discourse. He let his thoughts drift to other things, but try as he might he couldn’t help but to occasionally glance over to the polished black granite bar where Ren stood preparing drink after complicated drink. 

Twenty times.

Masato noted to himself. Twenty times had he caught eyes with Ren as the night dragged on. That was obviously more than a coincidence. Each time their eyes met, Ren would flash a smile and Masato would quickly look away. Every single time it happened and every single time he would see that dangerously delicious expression. At first he felt compunctious of his reckless behavior, but the exchange between the two became addictive and Masato slowly sunk into a stupor of shameless abandon. 

Hours had passed and the bar was mostly empty except for Masato’s table and a few stragglers. Completely drained from the overwhelming atmosphere, Masato lounged back against the plush black velvet booth he had occupied for the majority of the night. His eyes had fluttered shut only to be ripped open at the sound of an unfortunately familiar dulcet voice. 

“Good evening. I’m sorry to interrupt but we’re about to close for the night. Feel free to finish your drinks, but please be aware that the staff will be leaving soon.”

As Ren finished speaking, his eyes fell upon Masato. The discontented grumblings of the very drunk customers surrounding Masato seemed to float by unheard as Ren’s vision searched over the other man’s being. A dry smile twitched at his lips and Masato bristled from the man’s discerning gaze. 

“I got a question for you!” shouted one of the girls, who was, even when not inebriated, exceedingly loud and boisterous. As she shot up from her spot and with a think slur and noticeable sway, she continued. “If this is a ‘jazz bar’ how come there’s no music? I see you’ve got a piano, but why’s there no one to play it?”

Ren appeared stunned as if he had been attacked by the girls words, but, with practiced finesse, he recovered in time to answer he honestly. 

“It’s true that this is a jazz bar,” he began. “And you’ve asked a perfectly reasonable question. Unfortunately our pianist left while the old owner was still here and although I’ve done my best to find a new one, it’s a lot hard than you’d think it would be.” A purported chuckle finished his explanation. 

“If that’s the case, you should hire Masa here!” Said another of Masato’s distastefully drunk associate. Masato’s head whipped to the man who had spoken. He gave a look begging the other to not say another word, but the intoxicated man either didn’t see or didn’t care. 

“Masato was a great at the piano in college. He’d be perfect.” 

Masato covered his face and refused to look up at the astounded blond. Much to his horror, Ren acquiesced. 

“Well that’s very interesting.” Masato attempted to look unfazed but his burning visage revealed his turmoil. Ren continued.

“Well, if Masato is up for an audition, I really wouldn’t mind considering it.”

Masato’s face scorched. He looked up angrily at Ren. With a very keen and slightly insidious smile, Ren silently dared Masato to voice his retort. Masato fumed silently. It had been made clear to him what Ren’s challenge was. If he was to get irate over Ren using his first name when Masato had made it clear that he should only use his last name, he would expose his entirely embarrassing drunken escapade to his coworkers. 

He also had no real reason to refuse to play the piano. If he did, Ren would have multiple (albeit drunk) witnesses to Masato ‘auditioning’ for him. If he didn’t accept the job, it would be his fault the jazz bar had no jazz. If he did get the job, he’d be working in the same place as Ren, the man who had confessed to falling in love at first sight. He was caught in a sinister trap.

With a cacophony of cheers from his associates, he rose and trudged over to the abandoned instrument.

“Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.” he muttered as he stepped past the blond. Ren’s silent laugh was drenched in knowing and Masato shivered as the secret exchange between the two passed. The almost sadistic tone was incredibly satisfying, and Masato wished he could revel in the almost salacious sound again.

All eyes were on him as Masato gingerly took his place before the piano. It had been a long time since he had last played, but he was confident in his muscle memory. He released a breath filled with nervousness, and began to play.

It was rough. He hadn’t played in at least six years, and he occasionally tripped over some notes on his improvisational melody. Although, if he was being perfectly honest with himself, he had heard this song before. It was a recreation, or an almost recreation, of the song he had heard the night he first met Ren. He hadn’t originally intended to play the song he heard, but as he played memories of that fateful evening flooded his mind and his dexterous fingers betrayed his sentimental thoughts. When he noticed the look of surprise on Ren’s face he knew he had the upper hand. A small snigger melted the stern expression he had previously been intent on holding.

After a while, Masato decided he had displayed enough of his musical prowess and he created an abrupt but fitting end to his song. Sweet adrenaline coursed through his body. He missed playing the piano. It always left him with a feeling of fulfilment after he finished a song. 

Masato’s eyes lingered on the alabaster keys of the piano. For a moment he wished he never had to move from the polished rosewood seat of the antique baby grand.   
Quickly quelling his disloyal thoughts, Masato stood quickly and returned to his place at the table. Before he could reach his intended destination, a hand grabbed his arm in a way that was becoming quickly familiar.

He whirled to face his captor. Demands of acquittal were already prepared on Masato’s lips when he noticed Ren’s face. Masato’s words were stillborn as he contemplated Ren’s almost frantic countenance. Sky blue eyes explored ocean ones in an ostensibly trance-like way. 

The world seemed to still and nothing outside of himself and this beautiful man and although Masato could hear the mix of jeers and applause from his forgotten colleagues, they seemed to dissipate before they could connect with his thoughts. 

Masato could feel his pulse pounding due to the nervous anticipation of what might happen next and in an effort to relieve himself from further humiliation he tugged at the rough grip on his arm. The jostling motion snapped the other man from his daze and he freed the limb he had been holding. 

For the first time since they had met, it was Ren who was at loss for words. He stumbled over his syllables for a while, but with a deep breath composed himself enough to finally speak. 

“I…will you play here?” he whispered. Masato, who had not once looked away from the other man’s desperate face, felt rather than saw the disquieted pleading emanating from his lapis eyes. 

“I’ll think about it.”

His reply was curt and intentionally harsh. While he had felt sympathy, (maybe even a mutual desperation) Masato also had no reasons to recklessly relinquish the remnants of his already shaken pride. He watched as Ren’s eyes dulled and his face fell. It was a slight change, but Masato had noticed and instantly regretted his cruelty. 

 

As the last of the alcohol was finished and bills were paid, the party headed home. Masato found himself one of the last of the group to leave, and as he exited through the heavy glass door, he chanced a glance one last time to the bar tender. For the last time that night, the two men made eye contact and with a faintly melancholy smile, Ren waved goodbye. 

 

The next day, Masato rushed home. He discarded his cheap suit and changed into a fairly new black button up and slacks. After a quick run over in the mirror, he sighed and brought his hands to his temples.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this..”


	4. As Time Goes By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, confession time! In all honesty I did not intend for this to go past chapter two. But here we are! Um...I'm really stuck with writer block, so not only did this chapter take ABSOLUTELY FOREVER to come out, it's also not very good. I can promise that I will finish this. IT WILL HAVE A DECENT ENDING. (We all know how awful it is to have a fic be abandoned, it's, like, the worst thing ever.) but as a warning, it's going to take awhile to update and it'll probably be very...not good.   
> As for the story...I went back to read it and THERE ARE WAY TOO MANY MISTAKES!!!! So here's an apology for that! I also realized that there's hardly any story here, so thanks for liking it despite the lack of actual plot.   
> As far as this chapter goes, there's probably a thousand mistakes and the characters are being stupid. (because i am stupid.)  
> So yeah. Thanks for staying with me, and again, I promise I will end it!

A sour note. A bitter sigh.

The source of both being an increasingly irritated Masato. One mistake was expected, two was annoying but understandable, but the amount of mistakes he found himself making tonight was indisputably cringe worthy. He could easily enough forgive himself for the almost ceaseless carelessly missed notes, could effortlessly chalk them up to him not having played in years, he could certainly create any valid excuse, but he knew the piano as well as he knew himself. Although he was loath to admit it, Masato knew exactly why he couldn’t focus on the pearlescent keys before him.

Another wrong note, another sigh, and another glare at his reason. It had been a little over a month since he had entered the bar for the first time, and yet he felt like he had existed there forever. After the initial shock of, well, everything he encountered in the polished bar had worn off, he found himself precisely in his element. Masato’s first few nights working had been difficult. He had suspected to feel awkward around his new employer, but Ren had been the least intimidating obstacle. Although they had all been friendly and welcoming, Masato found himself incredibly nervous around his new coworkers. But worst of all (far worse than new faces or a, dare he say it, _romantic_ tension with his new boss) was being the center of attention all night. When he accepted the job, he hadn’t even considered the description fully. The only thing that concerned him was the close proximity to the beautiful bartender.

 

*****

Again and again he berated himself for his lack of retrospect. This was a jazz bar. A jazz bar with no music. He would be the one to provide the music. With the first key he tapped, the entire bar was captivated. He had noticed a few patrons cautiously watching as he had approached the piano, but as he began to play all eyes were on him. The hair on his neck rose, his stomach ached, and his face burnt with embarrassment as he felt curious eyes rake over his ridged form. His breathing quickened and while his fingers kept their rhythm, they stumbled over the keys producing a string of wrong notes. Hearing his mistakes made him even more nervous. Masato soon found himself on the verge of running away as fast as humanly possible, but when he looked up from the piano to plan his escape route, his eyes met Ren’s.

It was silly. Masato should have known that Ren would be looking at him, especially since the last time he visited the bar Ren couldn’t take his eyes off him, but for some reason Masato was surprised to find the bartender looking at him. Perhaps he had expected to find a look of disgust painted onto the other man’s lovely face or maybe a look of betrayal. A look of “How did I ever let you convince me you could do this?” Instead, to Masato’s pleasant surprise, he found a smile. To his relief, Ren did not seem angry at all. In anger’s place was peace, and while Masato’s mind was frozen in confusion, his body continued to move. He soon discovered that Ren’s tranquility was contagious and as his fingers ran over the keys on autopilot the notes they produced improved exponentially. Ren’s smile widened when Masato’s eyes met his, and when the music began to sound like when Masato first played for him, a small chuckle escaped his lips. He had intended for his smile to help Masato relax, but, and he laughed again, it seemed it accomplished way more than expected. With his confidence restored and his nerves eased, Masato looked back to the keys and without further hesitation he began to really play. As the evening went on, the bar-goers let Masato drift to the background. Occasionally there would be a calm applause after he finished a refrain but he hardly noticed any of it. Unfelt hours passed and his music only stopped when Masato felt a delicate hand rest on his shoulder.

“Good job tonight.” Masato turned away from the keys and in the same movement brushed the other man’s hand off.

“Thank you, although I don’t really feel like my performance was anything to praise.” Ren let his offending hand be swept off, but as he listened to Masato speak he tucked in under his other arm. His eyebrows furrowed as he responded.

“Are you always this hard on yourself? You really did play well, sure you had a shaky start, but once you got into it, you were fine.” Masato averted his eyes. “I-If you say so…But I would still…that is… Would it be alright if I stayed and practiced for just a little while longer?” Masato looked back up at Ren. He hoped the other would allow him to stay, hoped he wouldn’t realize the piano wasn’t really the reason he wanted to. Ren quirked an eyebrow. His hand moved to his mouth as he thought. He looked first as Masato then around the bar. His head tilted and a symphony of ‘hmm’s accompanied his teasing. His eyes once more returned to Masato’s and the pianist held his breath. The next instant Ren was laughing loudly. Masato’s eyes widened in surprise. He glanced around frantically, hoping that he too might be included in the other’s obscure joke. Finally, and with no small amount of effort, Ren calmed his laughter just enough to speak.

“Of course you can! We have to clean up still so it’s not like we’re going home just yet.” Masato sighed with both relief and annoyance. As he turned back around to face the piano he felt more than heard the man behind him whisper.

“It’s not like I’d say no to spending more time with the guy I like anyway.”

*****

Another bad note.

Admitting defeat for the night, Masato rubbed his eyes. Usually he’d be able to lose himself at the piano. He’d immerse himself in the piano’s singing, allowing its melodies to envelop around him, separating him from the outside world as he sewed together lines of music into a patchwork improvisation. He’d normally be able to relax as his quilted music assuaged his daily troubles, but today was different. He couldn’t focus today. Not because he was bored at the piano, or because the pouring rain left him in a somber mood. There was only one reason for him to be distracted tonight, and, loathe as he was to admit, it was jealousy. For the entirety of the night he had been subjected to watching a waitress flirt with Ren. She had been working at the bar for a while, but had only recently worked up the courage to casually talk with him, and tonight she was feeling really adventurous. Masato tried to ignore it, but every time he’d almost put the image from his mind and begin to play, he’d hear her giggle and he’d immediately look up. It wasn’t uncommon for girls to flirt with Ren. It seemed like every night he’d have someone try to, but usually Ren would politely decline any offers or laugh off their compliments, but tonight Ren was the more aggressive of the two. When Masato would glance over to figure out why the waitress had giggled, he’d be shocked to find Ren’s hand ghosting over her cheek, Ren whispering in her ear, or his lips on her hand. What was worse is while the poor girl was trying to compose herself from his obnoxious philandering, Ren would glance over at Masato with a devious smirk. Masato’s first instinct was to ignore him, but as the night dragged on Ren simply became more vivacious. The young waitress was practically in hysterics and her blush was more than obvious. Masato couldn’t blame her; if he were in her position he’d probably have already fainted. 

*****

Masato had been surprised when he and Ren had started to get along. During the first few weeks of Masato’s employment, he was so nervous around the bartender he could hardly speak when he came near, and any attempt Ren had made was quickly sunk by the glacial atmosphere between them. The first chip in the proverbial ice was when Ren brought his saxophone with him. Masato had been at the piano like usual when Ren stepped up. Masato quickly glanced up at Ren then even faster away. Ren, without a word, took a seat on the edge of the piano’s bench. Masato would have moved or told him to leave, but before the nervous young man could muster up the courage to speak (or even look) at the other man, he heard a few notes from a saxophone. Masato stared at the man with his back to him. The saxophone continued to whine and without thinking Masato’s hands moved to the keys. As they harmonized, neither looked at the other. Their music was in perfect synch although neither had said what to play. Masato had always loved the piano. It had been his only source of happiness for many years, but for some reason, playing with Ren’s accompaniment had changed the experience completely. He didn’t feel happy-he felt exhilarated. A smile began to creep upon his lips and as the song slowly came to an end, he wanted nothing more than to play again. He looked up from the keys and back to the man next to him. Ren had turned and was looking directly into Masato’s eyes. His face mirrored Masato’s and like telepathy, they wordlessly agreed to keep playing. After a long night doing nothing but creating melodies together, the two men were finally able to communicate. Masato never would have expected it to be so easy, but he also couldn't think of a more perfect way. They had met because of music after all.

*****

Masato was about to give up. No matter how much he wished, he couldn’t cure his headache by rubbing his temples. He looked up once more to the bar, half expecting to see Ren’s shameless display, half hoping he wouldn’t. To his disappointment, Ren and the waitress were still together, but when Masato began to shuffle some of his sheet music in preparation to leave, Ren’s face fell and he snapped his eyes from the girl to Masato to his watch. Masato slowed his movements and watched as Ren neared the girl. Only the granite bar separated the two. He whispered something to her and when she looked up to the old clock on the wall Ren stole a kiss on her cheek. The girl shrieked. Ren ducked behind the bar. Masato fumed. He resumed his previous pace of gather up his papers, but his anger made his hands tremble. One more glance up and the girl was gone and Ren was slowly walking over. Masato’s movements became frantic as he tried to shuffle the papers together, deny his moistening eyes, and look uninterested. He accomplished none of these tasks.

“Hey, Hijirikawa. I- are you crying?” _Of course that’s the first thing he notices._ Masato thought bitterly.

“No, my eyes are dry from staying up so late.” The pianist spat in response. Ren balked at the harsh retort.

“Well if that’s it,” the blond answered sarcastically, “then I don’t suppose you’d mind giving me your opinion on something.” Masato scoffed.

“Wouldn’t you prefer your girlfriend’s opinion over mine?” Ren’s eyes widened. Before he could question him, Masato continued sharply. “Oh? She’s not your girlfriend? That’s surprising. Especially after you were all over her tonight.” Ren’s eyes lowered and his lips tightened.

“Are you jealous, Hijirikawa?” It was Masato’s turn to be surprised.

“N-no!” he stammered. “I just-I couldn’t imagine acting like that with someone other than the person I loved.” Ren’s face softened. He sank down onto the bench next to Masato. Masato turned to look at him, but Ren was looking away.

“It’s not like the one I love loves me back.” He said despondently. Masato blushed and looked away from the man sitting next to him.

“He’s never said that…” Ren’s eyes widened and he whipped his head around. Masato refused to look at him. He knew that once his eyes met the other’s he’d be finished. His face was hot, his hands shook lightly, and butterflies panicked in his stomach. He would not look.

“Hijirikawa…”

He would not look!

“Hijirikawa.”

He would not-

“Masato.”

Masato’s face went crimson. He spun around.

“I told you not to-“

Their lips met.

Masato’s mind went blank. His senses vanished. The only thing on his mind was Ren’s lips on his, warm and soft. As the seconds dragged he felt himself melting into the other man’s touch. He soon became aware of the hand caressing his cheek while the other hand snaked its way around his waist. A second more and he would be completely enraptured by the spell of Ren’s kiss.

That second would have to wait.

With the last of his will and the small amount of strength he could muster in his arms, Masato pushed the larger man away. As Ren sat surprised, Masato sprung to his feet, desperately attempting to escape. Before he could take another step, Ren’s hand had latched onto his wrist and Ren’s lips were on his again. Their lips parted and in between pants Masato spoke.

“Why me?” Ren smiled. And with a quick peck to the corner of Masato’s mouth he replied.

“I told you. Love at first sight.”

Masato tried to look away but Ren captured his lips once more. His heart was beating so fast he felt like it might stop. They continued to kiss arms ever tightening around the other, and just before Masato felt he might suffocate between the ceaseless kisses and the vice-like grip around his waist, he felt Ren’s tongue on his lips. Masato pulled away once more. He didn’t run, but he did need to put some space between himself and the other man.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think…”

“Masato…” Ren spoke, his voice was sweet like honey and Masato was desperate for a taste. Masato sighed. He was almost positive he’d gone mad. He looked up to Ren and once more looked away. He cursed himself for being so weak when it came to the dazzling man before him. And with his last ounce of courage, he stepped forward and kissed Ren. Ren smiled into the others kiss. Again his tongue touched the other’s lips, but this time, they parted. Masato was stunned at his own lack of discrepancy. As he felt the other’s tongue on his, he again found himself melting into Ren’s arms. He saw stars as Ren’s tongue explored his mouth and without another thought returned the gesture. At first Ren breathed in sharply in surprise, but his exhale was a light moan of approval. And as Masato’s tongue became more adventurous, Ren sought to close even the tiniest gap between them. His forward motion caused Masato to lose his balance and he stumbled backwards.

_Bwang._

Both men jumped in surprise as Masato landed on the piano’s keys. Masato blushed, but Ren laughed loudly. A small pout began to form on the embarrassed man’s lip, and with a quick kiss Ren whispered in his ear.

“You know, I think that’s my favorite sound that you’ve made on this piano.”


End file.
